Forthright
by threesummerdays
Summary: "Neither of us are what you would call emotionally forthright."  SPOILERS: Based on Ian Wylie's summary of, and 9.06's trailer for, 9.07.  Harry and Ruth get one last chance to get this right.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: **Based on Ian Wylie's summary of, and 9.06's trailer for, 9.07. I'm terrified of the outcome, so I figured I'd write this before we know what happens for sure. Title based off the quote IW mentions: "Neither of us are what you would call emotionally forthright."

* * *

They break down the doors, Harry all but sprints in, his heart pounding. Ruth, _his_ Ruth, is in danger. He should have seen it, should have known, but he was so caught up in his own problems that he missed it and now, if she was… He'd never forgive himself. Never.

He stops suddenly and stares at the ground. He can sense Dimitri do the same. He feels the tears still pricking his eyes. The blood that covers the floor is making him sick, and it's all he can do to keep his gagging to himself.

"Christ," he says quietly. Dimitri blinks slowly, and Harry can tell he's trying to process what's happened.

"Jesus," Dimitri murmurs. He drags his gaze away, squeezes the bridge of his nose, straightens up, motions for some of the C019 to follow him as he looks around the flat. Harry shuffles toward the spot on the floor that claimed his attention the moment he came in.

Two bodies, broken, bloodied, lifeless. He's not sure if he can handle this much death, but he shakes his mind of the thoughts of Ruth that fill it. He waves Beth over and she stops by his side, her hand reaching out to squeeze his elbow gently.

"At least it's not…" She doesn't finish her sentence aloud – they both know what she means. Harry starts to pull away gently when a shout rings through the flat.

"_Harry!_"

He breaks from Beth's side and runs to Dimitri's voice. The young officer is in the bedroom, next to a chair with… It's impossible…

Harry drops to his knees by the chair, tucks his hand under her chin, lifts her head softly, so softly. Her breathing is shallow and, judging by the bruises already forming across her body, she's in severe pain. But she's breathing, and he takes that as the last chance God's going to give him to get this right.

"Ruth," he whispers, his voice as broken as her body. "My Ruth, can you hear me?"

Her eyelids flicker briefly before they open. Her eyes aren't focusing quite right, but it doesn't matter. She's alive.

"Ruth," he whispers again, this time brushing his thumb over her cheek. "Ruth, can you move at all?"

She tries to shake her head – it hurts too much, she stops and winces. He cups her face with his hand and speaks to Dimitri without looking at him.

"Get an ambulance here now."

Dimitri runs out, tries to get a signal on his phone, as Harry brushes his thumb over her face, trying to clean her of the dust and splinters and blood.

"My Ruth," he murmurs, and, for some reason, he kisses her. Softly, tenderly, slowly. It's a butterfly kiss, and he can hear her trying to speak to him, but he gently shushes her.

"Don't speak," he says, and kisses her again. "Don't say anything at all. I'm here. I'm with you now."

She blinks twice, which he takes as a good sign, and closes her eyes as she leans gently, so gently, into his palm. After a few moments, she opens her eyes again and tries to speak.

"Shhh," he whispers. She quiets and he wipes the blood from her face. They sit in silence again.

"Ruth," he says suddenly. "I need to tell you something."

She tries to stop him, but she's too weak to fight the finger he places on her lips. "Neither of us are what you would call emotionally forthright," he says gently. "But…"

He pauses, and she looks at him, the bruises around her eyes already almost black. "But…" she prompts him in a hoarse voice.

"But," he continues, "I think we've waited long enough for this to come out in the open." He leans in closer and she stills completely as his lips near hers.

"I love you."

She lets out a soft cry. "Oh, Harry," she says, and, with all the strength left in her, she stretches up and kisses him.

It's more powerful than the kiss on the deck all those years ago. This time, it's not about goodbye or missed opportunities or guilt. It's about love and hope and death and fear and faith all wrapped up in one perfect kiss. When he pulls back, she's pale and shaking. Every fiber in his body is on alert again.

"Dimitri!" His voice is a cry, loud and shaking. "Where's the ambulance?"


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: **Realized that I didn't mention an upcoming chapter at the end of the first, so... Chapter Two of Forthright! Gets a little bit happier. And by happier, I mean Ruth actually talks in this part. :)

* * *

The light is bright even through her eyelids and she can't help but blink dazedly as she starts to come round. At first, she's pretty certain that she's dead. _Hell_, she thinks as the memories of Rigaut's torture surface, _it'd be a relief to be dead_. The light is growing brighter, obnoxiously so, and she feels like she's floating. She starts to blink her eyes, trying to gain some form of focus, because from what she remembers of most religions, The End isn't supposed to be blurry. A dark blob comes into focus and, as her vision clears, she recognizes the sterile white room of a hospital. The blob is slowly defining itself and she realizes it's a nurse who's smiling widely.

"Well, look at you," she says in a voice far too chipper for Ruth's liking. "Blinking and everything."

Ruth wants to snap back that of course she's blinking, it's not as though she's dead, but she's too tired to fight. She blinks again, slower this time, and tries to make out the rest of the room. It looks as though she's alone in the room, machines surrounding her, beeping wildly. In the corner of the room, there are two plump chairs and a small table. She smiles as she realizes that Dimitri and Beth are collapsed in the chairs, coffee cups and car keys abandoned on the table.

She's about to ask about them when the nurse says, "They've been here since early morning. Your nice gentleman couldn't make it in today, apparently."

It takes her a minute to work out what the nurse means, but when the words finally filter through her foggy mind, Ruth understands. "Your nice gentleman." Harry. And her mind slips back to when Dimitri found her and he came running into the room and threw himself down in front of her. Her eyes tear up and she tries to lift her arm to wipe them away, only to find it's too heavy. The nurse smiles at her again, but this time it's more genuine, like she's really trying to make her patient feel better.

"You're very weak," the nurse says, and Ruth's again struck with the desire to snap back and again gives up because she needs to store up her energy for when Harry shows up.

"We'll get you on a good dose of morphine," the nurse is saying, and somewhere in the back of her mind, Ruth is saying something about not wanting it as a painkiller. The words never make it out of her mouth, though, and she forgets about it soon after. "They'll be glad to see you awake."

Ruth wants to ask what she means by that, but at that moment, the door opens quietly. Harry stands in the doorway and he can't stop the smile from stretching across his face. He's across the room in less than four steps and is holding her hand shortly after.

"Hi," he says softly, looking her up and down. She's black and blue, a gash on her lip, a few cuts and stitches across her face. But she's alive. His Ruth is alive.

"Hi," she murmurs back, and she can't help but smile back at him, despite the pain in her lip.

"How are you?" He squeezes her fingers gently.

"Surprisingly, I've been better."

He laughs gently and she smiles again. She can feel the blush creeping up her neck and into her cheeks, but she ignores it. The nurse is bustling around them, busying herself with making notes on Ruth's status. When she finally abandons the machines and murmurs something about coming back later, Ruth chances a look up at Harry's face and she's pleasantly surprised to find him staring at her in utter adoration as she hears the door closing behind the exiting nurse. She blushes again and looks back down at their hands, tenderly joined, entwined on top of the sheets.

"How long have I been in here?" Ruth asks suddenly.

Harry looks uncomfortable and shifts his weight from foot to foot. "Quite some time," he says after a moment. She narrows her eyes, ignoring the pain that's starting to enter every nerve. Between that and the odd fuzzy feeling she's experiencing, she's not sure she'll stay cogent for much longer.

"How long, Harry?"

He breathes in, sighs, furrows his brow, squeezes her fingers. "Three weeks."

"Three weeks?" Her voice comes out more surprised than she hoped it would. He nods silently.

"You've been in a coma," he murmurs, and his free hand instinctively goes out to gently smooth her hair. "They started noticing some changes earlier this week, but they weren't sure if it meant anything." His fingers are tangling softly in her hair. "I've been worried."

She doesn't miss that he doesn't mention any of the others' concern, though she knows it exists. She also doesn't miss the movements of his fingers as he tries his best to soothe her after telling her she'd been in a nearly vegetable state for three weeks.

And for a moment, she _is_ soothed. His hand on her hair is so calming, so comforting, so _right_, she wants to stay like this forever.

"How bad is it?" she asks quietly. His mouth twitches and she can tell he's trying to figure out just how to word it.

"You've had thirty-six stitches over three deep cuts on your face alone," he says, his voice low. "They've had to set your ankle and wrist, you have a few broken ribs, and…"

His sudden pause brings her attention back to his face. He's looking at the window across her room, trying to keep his tears from her.

"Harry?"

He turns back as he hears his name fall from her lips. He breathes in again and tightens his hold on her hand, smoothes her hair again.

"You had me scared," he says honestly. He runs the pad of his thumb over the back of her hand.

"Harry."

She's asking for details he doesn't want to give, but he loves her so much and knows her so well, he knows that he can't keep this from her. She needs to know. He moves closer and settles on her bed, careful not to shift her with the addition of his weight.

"They said it was a miracle you made it to the hospital." He's speaking so quietly, she almost can't hear him, but when the words process, she feels the tears pricking her own eyes.

"Oh," she whispers, and he shakes his head.

"They thought you might have severe brain damage. They…" He pauses, breathes. "They said you might not _want_ to live if you made it."

She quirks her head, and then it hits her. "They didn't…" she whispers, but he cuts her off.

"I'm the closest thing to family you have," he says. "On paper, anyway. They told me I needed to be ready with a decision. Just in case."

"Oh, Harry," she murmurs, and clutches his hand tighter in hers.

They sit in silence for a few more moments before he speaks again. "I never did make one," he says. "A decision, I mean." She can't understand why he's telling her this, but he's carrying on.

"I couldn't choose," he says. "If I went with the decision I thought you'd make, I would lose you. But if I kept you here…"

"If you love someone," she murmurs into the silence he lets fall over the end of his thoughts.

"Indeed."

They fall into silence again. Finally, she speaks up, nodding her head lightly at the chairs, and immediately regretting the movement.

"Why'd you send them here?"

He glances at Dimitri and Beth, now sprawled completely across the chairs, both breathing heavily through their open mouths, and smiles. "I know this might come as a surprise to you," he says seriously, "but your coworkers like you and, shockingly, I didn't have to threaten them at all to get them to come watch over you."

She smiles at his attempt at humor. "Glad to know I'm cared for."

"More than you know," he whispers, and she barely catches it.

"Harry," she begins, but at that precise moment, the nurse comes back in with the doctor in tow. Harry moves from the bed muttering something that sounds terribly like, "_Goddamn timing_," and leans in to kiss her cheek.

"I've got to go," he says. "Meeting."

She whispers that she understands, and she smiles as he squeezes her fingers.

"Don't look so disappointed, Miss Evershed," he whispers. "I'll be back soon."

She watches him quietly shut the door behind himself and she feels a familiar ache in her heart that only comes when she's separated from him. She turns her attention to the nurse and doctor and tries to forget the heat that's still captured in her fingers.

* * *

**A/N: **I'm sure I didn't get the perfect "coming out of a coma" dialogue, but hey – it's fiction. Hope you liked – more to come, I promise! :)


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: **Short little Chapter Three… hope you like the brief sweetness. :)

* * *

When she wakes up in the middle of the night, she begins to cry. She's in pain, excruciating pain, and she has no idea where she is. It's bright inside and odd noises are coming from all sides of her. The lone window shows her how dark it is outside except for the few rays of moonshine. As she scans the room, she remembers where she is.

The hospital.

Deery.

Rigaut.

Harry.

It's all a blur in her mind and she's about to collapse back into her drug-induced sleep when she notices the figure in the chair.

"Harry?" she whispers. He's asleep on the chair that was previously occupied by Dimitri. His arms are thrown to his sides, his tie loosened, jacket thrown over the table in front of him. She doesn't expect him to hear her, but as he stirs, she feels guilty for saying his name out loud. He shakes himself awake and, upon realizing that she's awake, he springs from the chair and hurries to her side.

"Ruth," he murmurs, taking her hand in his. "Is everything all right?"

"Fine," she mumbles, and he lowers his head to find her eyes. "I didn't mean to wake you," she admits as he raises her chin with his forefinger.

"It's fine," he says, but she can see the bags under his eyes – they're darker than usual.

"You should be at home," she whispers, looking down at their joined hands. _They fit together so perfectly…_

"Perhaps I should," he admits, but he catches her eye again. "But I'd much rather be here with you."

She knows she's blushing, but she doesn't care anymore. "Harry," she says, and he smiles as the name trips from her tongue.

"Yes, Ruth?"

"When you said… earlier, I mean… at the flat…"

He takes a sharp breath. He was hoping she had forgotten that but, he reasons, it's _Ruth_. She doesn't forget anything.

"When I said what, Ruth?"

"That we're not emotionally forthright…"

"Ah."

"I think you're wrong." The skeptical look he gives her hurries her to amend her statement. "I think you're wrong to a certain extent. I don't think you and I can be like Adam and Fiona, or even Danny and Zoe, were. We're just not like them. But…"

She pauses, and he knows what she's going to say, but he needs her to speak the words. "But we've done things… things that, well, they…" She's stumbling in her search for the right words and she looks so tired, he feels guilty for making her struggle through it on her own.

"They express our emotions better than words?" he offers.

"Exactly." She glances up at him and is worried to see a serious look on his face. "What? Don't you think so?"

"To a certain extent," he offers again, and she smiles.

"What extent?"

"It's hard for me to do anything that tells you what I feel for you," he says bluntly, and her heart speeds up.

"Harry," she says, a warning ringing through her voice.

"You push away my words," he murmurs. "You would push away my actions, too, if you could. Which, by the way, you have."

"Harry," she repeats, and this time he meets her gaze. "I… I didn't mean to… to push… to push you away. I wish you would forgive me for what I've done to you."

His grip on her hand tightens. He leans in – she can smell the light cologne, feels his breath on her cheek, her nose.

"I've always forgiven you," he whispers, and her heart leaps. "God knows it isn't easy to love you, to let you take my heart and tear it to pieces, but I do, and I have. I'm lost without you, Ruth."

His honesty brings more tears to her eyes and as some start to fall, he moves his free hand to brush them away. "I mean that," he adds, and before she can say anything, he's moved his head closer and he's kissing her. Like the first kiss in the flat, when he was afraid she'd break if he touched her too much. It's soft and beautiful and she never wants it to end. He pulls back to her great disappointment, but the smile toying at the edges of his lips makes her forgive him within seconds.

"Go back to sleep," he whispers, running a hand through her hair again. "I'm here."

And soon after that, her world goes dark and all she knows is that he's still by her side, his fingers wrapped around hers.

For the first time in years, she's completely at peace.

* * *

**A/N:** Still more to come, I promise. Trying desperately to get the whole thing up before Monday... ahhh! :)


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N:** Another fluffy kind of chapter – actually written for a much different long piece, but I liked it here better. And it's weirdly fluffy. Did I mention that?

* * *

She's exceptionally grumpy today, mainly because the nurse (no longer the sweet young nurse – she's been replaced with a bitter veteran ironically called Nurse Payne and Ruth's sure she actually helped in World War II) still refuses to let her stand and take a proper shower. Something about her not moving unless it's absolutely necessary or part of her physio routine.

That's been another fight they've been engaged in – Ruth has insisted she needs to get back on her feet, she's fine, and her physio should start soon. Payne, meanwhile, in her gruff Army manner, has been equally insistent that she stays in bed to rest. They finally brought in the doctor who, after looking at Ruth's set glare, admitted that she could probably try some light walking for her ankle. The nurse hadn't quite gotten over her loss.

And now she takes it out by not letting Ruth shower like a normal human being. Today, she's especially feisty and tells her patient there is no possible way the doctor will let her stand for her shower because it's not necessary. Ruth realizes she's lost this battle, and mutters under her breath that a shower _is_ absolutely necessary because, quite frankly, she feels like shit and she knows it'll make her feel better. But Nurse Payne says no, it won't, and takes up her daily reading of machines.

Ruth doesn't want to admit it, but she really wants to shower because Harry's coming straight over from the Grid (just called five minutes ago to say he's on his way) and she feels like a complete mess. It's bad enough he sat and watched her drool for three weeks straight, and she doesn't even want to think of what she looked like when he found her tied to the chair. Thanks to his convincing – which usually includes a kiss of one kind or another – she's accepted his seeing her in unattractive situations.

But she draws the line at him seeing her on her tenth day without a proper shower.

Yes, they rinse her hair and yes, she's been sponged clean, but it's her first day of properly seeing him without the full dose of morphine in her system. And, as much as she doesn't like to think she's that concerned with his opinion of her hygiene, it matters.

So when he walks into her room, a bunch of flowers hanging loosely from his hand, she feels the blush creep up her face and she ducks her eyes. If he didn't know her better, he'd think she was upset with him for coming again, but he sees the hint of a smile she's hiding from him so he doesn't mind that she's acting this way. He finds an empty cup, disappears into the bathroom, comes out with the flowers falling from the impromptu vase.

"Oh, Harry," she murmurs as he places the cup on the table beside her. "They're lovely."

"Hellebore," he says, straightening the blooms.

"The Christmas Rose," she whispers. He nods and pulls the chair closer to her bed.

"I know it's rather early, but I thought you could do with some cheering up." His voice is soft and his fingers are moving across her hand. He's avoiding her gaze, focusing on the slight bruising she's gained from having needles poked into her every day.

"Because the roses and lilies and asters weren't cheerful," she says seriously, waving lightly at the other vases around the room. He nods.

"Not at all." And then he looks up and smiles one of his dazzling smiles. Her heart flutters and her only thought is that it's a good thing they don't have her hooked up to _that_ machine anymore. The nurse probably would throw Harry out for disturbing her patient's heart rate.

"How's the Grid?"

Harry grins as he traces the bruise. Only his Ruth would ask about work a month after she'd been brutally beaten and on the verge of death. He shouldn't be surprised.

"Everything's fine," he says softly, glancing at the nurse, who's casually bustling around the nightstand. "Beth and Dimitri are holding down the Grid, Tariq's not thrown any more tantrums lately, and we've got a new field op. Her name's Penelope Homer."

Ruth snorts in the most ladylike way he's ever seen, and he finds himself laughing with her. "I thought you'd appreciate that," he says, squeezing her fingers. "I thought of you when I signed off the paperwork."

She smiles again, softer this time, and watches their fingers. It's become her new favorite pastime when he visits – the way his fingers stroke hers, the way they fit when they wind them together. She's distracted from the dull pain all over her body as his thumb brushes over her hand and he tells her more stories from work after the nurse slips out of the room. He describes Beth's clever use of chopsticks to interrogate one of the Russians, Dimitri's fearless bomb disposal, and Tariq's latest gadget. Ruth laughs the whole time, trying not to disturb her healing self, but some of the looks on his face make her laugh a touch too hard and she winces and waves off his concern.

"You just can't make me laugh," she says, trying to regain emotional equilibrium. He nods solemnly.

"I'll do my best."

A new nurse – younger and more cheerful – comes in after he shoots Ruth the most adoring look she's ever seen. Before she knows what's happening, the nurse is prying Ruth from the bed, pulling the pole with the IV line to the side, telling her that she's got to get out of bed and walk around if she wants to earn that shower Nurse Payne has been saying she needs.

Ruth blushes bright red and Harry can't help but smile as the nurse shoos him away from the bed. He leans against the wall and watches Ruth struggle to pull herself up. She's so determined and clearly loathes the nurse – more Payne than this new one, he thinks mildly – so much that it's all he can do to stop himself from laughing. As the nurse draws her patient away from her comforting bed, Harry walks to his Ruth's side and asks politely if he can help with anything. Ruth shoots a glare at him, a look he can interpret instantly.

_Don't even think about it, you patronizing bastard. I'm doing this on my own. And I haven't showered in ten days, so you'd best not cross me_.

But the nurse doesn't know what Ruth's thinking, so she nods and says that'd be wonderful for dear Ruth, having a friend help her. She shows Harry what to watch out for, reminds him not to let Ruth pull the line out, points out the direction she thinks they should go, and disappears after he says he thinks he can handle it.

So Ruth is left alone in her hospital gown, pole in hand, with the love of her life. He smiles gently at her and leans himself against her good side.

"Come on, my Ruth," he whispers in her ear, so similar to his first proposal. "The sooner you finish this, the sooner you can shower."

As they struggle down the hallway, having to stop every few steps to let her catch her breath, Ruth sees again how much she loves this man. She knows he's left the Grid earlier than he should so that he can be with her, knows he's probably told the Home Secretary to piss off so he can deal with personal matters, knows he loves her.

It's so simple sometimes, this love they share.

She makes it halfway to the nurses' station when she feels like she's about to collapse. There's a chair conveniently nearby so she falls into it, breathing heavily. Harry continues to stand in front of her, his gaze lingering on every inch of her stitched face. Her hair is wild, her eyes simultaneously bright and tired, her lips parted in a slight pant. She's still pale and shaky, and he can see now that the bruises run all the way up her arms. Her feet are covered in hospital socks and she looks a little like death warmed over.

He's never thought her more beautiful.

He walks her back to her room, helps her onto the bed, and kisses her so gently, she thinks she must be in heaven.

When the nurses come in – both Payne and Perky, Harry notes – they glance between the two of them and Perky says, "I think you've earned your shower now, dear. Do you want the nice gentleman to help with that too?"

Ruth blushes again and Harry tells the nurse that, as much as he would love to help with the shower – here he stares at Ruth with unveiled desire – he has work to get back to. But maybe next time, he offers. Payne mumbles something about men only staying around as long as was absolutely necessary, but neither Harry nor Ruth hears her.

Harry walks over to his love, brushes her mouth gently with his, whispers, "Take care."

She smiles and says, just as softly, "Come back soon, Harry."

He smiles and nods. "Of course."

He reaches the door, turns on his heel, marches back to the bed, and, taking her face gently in his hands, lowers his mouth to hers in an obscenely passionate, yet controlled, kiss. When he pulls back, her eyes are glassy and he chuckles as he exits the room and the door closes behind him.

* * *

**A/N: **I couldn't help it. Sweet/Comforting/Sexy Harry, how I love you. Hope you liked it - only two chaps to go!


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: **Thank you so much for all the wonderful reviews! Unfortunately, we're getting close to the end on this one... Sorry this chapter is super short, but hopefully it'll answer a few questions.

* * *

"You never told me what happened," she says as he settles into the chair. It's day fourteen of her being awake and she's poking at the tray of food in front of her.

He peaks his fingers and avoids her gaze. "Now's not the time," he says, but she shakes her head.

"Now's the perfect time," she says firmly. He finds her eyes, sees her determination, and sighs.

"What do you want to know?" he asks finally, watching her carefully shifting the food around the plate.

"Everything."

So he starts at the beginning. How he and Lucas were driving. How he subtly asked Lucas about Dakar, how Lucas said he was there. The admission that he had done the bombing, that he needed help to catch Vaughn. His voice wavers as he tells Ruth what his plan was – fake Lucas's death, let him slide into the void, set Beth and Dimitri on finding Maya. How Lucas found Vaughn, their showdown, Lucas taking Maya and running away, far away. How Dimitri called to ask about Ruth. How he had raced to get to the flat in time.

And here, his voice cracks completely. She stopped toying with her food when he started the story, but now she reaches over and offers her hand. He looks up and reaches out. Their fingers intertwine naturally and he tells her.

Rigaut, shot through the head. Deery, beaten to a pulp, gun still in his hand. He'd clearly defended himself as much as he could. By the time they had gotten to the flat, it had been too late. Two bodies. Fear of the discovery of a third. Desperation.

He feels the tears pricking his eyes, but before he can say anything, she shushes him and squeezes his fingers.

"I think that's enough," she says, and he's grateful. They sit in relative silence as she uses her free hand to eat her dinner. When she's finished and the nurses have checked her for the night, he stands.

"Don't leave," she says softly. He smiles and squeezes her fingers back.

"I won't," he says. "Just need to stand for a bit."

She watches as he moves away, carefully pulling his hand from hers, and looks out the window.

"Ask me again."

It's so quiet, there's no reason for it to reverberate around the room, but it does and she sees him stiffen near the wall. It's inappropriate, and she knows this, but she can't help it. They've become so close over the past few weeks, back to where they used to be, that she feels that maybe, just maybe, this is one of those thousands of moments she used to believe in.

When he doesn't speak, she feels the blush rising and looks down at her plate. For the briefest of moments, she thinks he's given up on them, that he's actually moved on, and she's horrified. He turns around and stares at her. She can feel his gaze, feels it just like she used to when he would give her those deliciously wanton looks. She stares at her tray.

"Sorry," she mumbles, "sorry. I didn't mean that. I mean, I meant it but I didn't mean for it to come out that way and if you don't… If you've… I just…"

She falls into rambling incoherence and is so distracted by her own tactlessness that she doesn't notice him move across the room to her bed. She's still rambling when he grabs her hand. She looks up and sees his eyes, darker than usual, filling with tears. He moves his mouth to her ear, just a breath away from touching it. When he speaks, his voice, hoarse with emotion, proves every doubt in her mind wrong.

"Say it again," he whispers, and his lips are suddenly brushing her ear in another butterfly kiss. When she doesn't immediately repeat it, he kisses it again and her moan of pleasure drives him on. "Say it."

"Ask me again, Harry," she sighs, the joy ripping through her veins like lightning as his lips move against her ear, her neck, her jaw. He moves his mouth again, kisses her eyes, her nose, and finally finds his way to her lips.

"Marry me, Ruth," he murmurs against her.

And this time, she says yes.


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: **Last chapter – thank you for sticking with me! Fingers crossed for Monday!

* * *

Beth glances over at Harry's office. He's been in there, blinds half-closed, with Ruth for quite some time and she's starting to wonder what's going on. When she looks over at Dimitri, she finds him doing the same thing.

"What do you think they're talking about?" he asks, knowing that she's watching him. She shrugs and tries to focus on her files.

"Who knows," she says, though she's burning with questions. Ever since Ruth got out of the hospital, she's only come back to the flat three times. Once was to stay the night, the second was to get her overnight bag, and the third was to get the boxes that had somehow managed to get packed without Beth's noticing. Beth's suspicions were confirmed when she walked in earlier this week with an understated diamond on her finger. She hasn't said anything, not even to Ruth herself, but she has a feeling it's better that way.

* * *

Harry's pen flies across the paper as he signs, and he hands it back to her.

"You're sure about this?" he says one last time. Ruth smiles and squeezes his hand.

"I'm sure. I think I've been shot at and beaten enough, don't you?" He smiles and squeezes back.

"I'll feel much better," he admits, and she blushes.

"Harry," she begins, but he cuts her off.

"I'll be able to come home and find you safe and sound. It's a great relief for my old heart."

"Not so much old, please," she murmurs, and, as she stands, she leans over the desk and kisses him.

"I've got to finish those files," she mutters against his lips as he pulls her tighter to him. It's not exactly a comfortable position, but if her reward is Harry's kiss, she's more than willing.

"I don't give a damn about those files," he growls, and she can't help the desire that courses through her veins. She forces herself to pull back and put a hand on his chest.

"None of that," she says softly. When he looks disappointed, she adds, "Not here, anyway."

He's about to argue with her, when she trails her hand down his chest and he feels his heart catch fire.

"If you're not busy tonight," she whispers, and he doesn't need her to finish her sentence. He catches her lips in his and when they pull apart several moments later, they're both breathless.

"Absolutely," he says hoarsely. She smiles and pulls back from her awkward lean against the desk, moves to the door, and slides back onto the Grid.

* * *

Harry steps out of the office and the Grid falls into silence. He waves for them to gather around him and, to no one's surprise, Ruth finds her way to his side. He waits until his officers are in a close circle and begins to speak.

"I have several announcements that may or may not affect your work here," he says seriously. Beth's desperately trying to keep her grin under control and Ruth's blushing wildly.

"First, I…" Harry pauses and looks at Ruth, who nods. "We, Ruth and I, would like to announce our marriage."

All the mouths but Beth's drop and cries of "Congratulations!" and "About time!" echo though the Grid. Ruth blushes an impossibly dark shade and Harry smiles wider than anyone's seen before. After a few minutes, he waves his hands and silence falls again.

"The second announcement," he begins, but Ruth interrupts.

"I've handed in my resignation," she says firmly. This time, even Beth's jaw drops.

"But Ruth," she begins, and Ruth stops her.

"I've been shot at, framed, exiled, dragged back, emotionally drained, and beaten nearly to death. I think I'll call it a career." She looks at Harry, eyes twinkling. He's staring at her with pure love and it takes Tariq clearing his throat to get them to look away and continue the speech.

"The third announcement affects all of you, I'm afraid." Harry looks seriously between Beth, Dimitri, and Tariq. "You three especially. Beth, I'm promoting you to Section Chief. Dimitri, you're second in command. Tariq, you're officially given permission to do whatever you want with the techies."

Beth looks stunned, Dimitri's grinning, and Tariq looks as though Christmas came relatively early.

Harry waits for a moment before he finishes his speech. Even Ruth doesn't know of his plan, and he's not sure how she'll take it. As the circle begins to disperse, he clears his throat.

"One last thing," he says. They stop and stare. Ruth's looking at him, eyes narrowed, brow furrowed. He can tell she's connecting the dots and as her eyebrows rise, he knows it's time.

"I have also handed in my resignation, effective immediately."

The Grid is shocked into silence. Ruth's mouth joins the others in dropping for the third time in the past ten minutes. Before anyone can say a word, Harry charges on.

"I've given nearly my whole life to this service and now that I have something else to live for – " here he looks at Ruth and hearts across the Grid melt – "I don't see a reason to stay and endanger what I have."

Harry and Ruth are too busy staring at each other to hear Dimitri's call for champagne, or the popping of the cork, or even notice the glasses that find their way to their elbows. They're staring so lovingly at each other, no words are necessary.

After the celebration, Ruth hands over the files to Dimitri, hugs each of her colleagues in turn, and gathers up her coat for the last time. As she slips it on and grabs her purse, Harry comes out of his office, two boxes in hand. Their labels are small and neatly written: _Harry Pearce_ and _Ruth Evershed_. He tucks them both under his arm as he offers Ruth his elbow. The Grid falls silent.

For the last time, Harry and Ruth walk to the pods, step in together, and, in perfect synchronization, they lean in and kiss as one door closes and the other opens.

Fin.

* * *

**A/N: **And there you have it, folks. Thanks so much for reading, and I hope you enjoyed it! :)


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